The Email
by fantasticality
Summary: The power of those annoying forwarded emails is uncomprehensible even to fictional characters. Co-authoring with pyrolyn-776.
1. Mitchie

**_Disclaimer: We don't own Camp Rock or any other people mentioned in this fic._**

A/N: This is a humor fic that Pyro and I just HAD to get out of our minds. We apologize if characters seem a bit OCC. **Ha, oh yeah, this is definitely…jeez…I couldn't stop laughing! By the way Vale…this is dedicated to you…hopefully you discover why soon. **

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A quiet, brown-eyed girl sat at her bedroom computer, sifting through her email. One caught her eye. 'I'm going to behead Katy Perry because I feel like it.'

'_What kind of email is that?_' Mitchie thought. She clicked on it, curious of its contents. '_This is cool,_' she thought, reading it, playing with the strings on her purple blouse.

"I'm going to behead Connect 3 because I hate them…" she murmured, filling out the email. Once completed, Mitchie forwarded it to her friends, anxious to see their reactions.

Little did she know, her boyfriend, Shane Gray of Connect 3 overheard her saying those words to herself. Being the airhead he often was, he believed that his girlfriend was plotting against him and his band. '_Mitchie,_' he wailed silently. '_I thought you loved me!_' Taking a deep breath, he decided to face her about her so-called "murder plot." Shane knocked on Mitchie's bedroom door.

"Mitchie, baby?" he called. "What'cha doing?" He walked in warily, unsure of what his girlfriend was doing. He kept the door open, just in case.

"Nothing," she replied. "Just going through my email." She didn't turn to face him, so Shane narrowed his eyes, looking for signs of something wrong with her…like being taken over by an alien life force…or something like that.

When she still didn't turn around, he yelled, "Mitchie! Look, I don't know what you're on, or if someone's telling you to do something to rip us apart, but…" he dropped down to his knees, "you don't have to be scared to tell me! It's okay, I forgive you!"

Mitchie turned around to stare blankly at him. "Huh?" She got up, and Shane simply stayed on his knees, staring at her in surprise.

"Wait. Are you planning on attacking me _here_? You're not going to like, sedate me, drag me to some random forest, dump my body somewhere…you're going to kill me…in your bedroom?" He rolled his eyes. "That's so lame Mitchie!" He crossed his arms, and Mitchie widened her eyes.

"Shane…do you need me to call someone? Nate? Jason?" Under her breath she muttered, "Psych ward…"

Shane got up. "So…you're _not _planning on beheading us?"

At that, Mitchie blinked. "Where would you get a sorry-excuse-for-a-question like that from?

"From you, of course." He rolled his eyes. "I _heard _you Mitch! You said it out loud! '_I'm going to behead Connect 3 because I hate them._' See?" He was staring at her in a crazed way, but Mitchie merely threw her head back in laughter.

"Oh! That! Oh, yes. You had better sleep with one eye open, Shane. Because it's coming when you least expect it." Mitchie said, gravely while smirking inwardly. '_Let's play with him for a bit._' She thought.

"But Mitchie!" Shane cried. "I thought you loved me!"

The brunette had to struggle immensely to refrain from laughing at the pathetic face her boyfriend had on. "Keyword: Loved. Shane, I just don't love you anymore." She said it teasingly, but Shane wasn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer…

"What? What did I do!?"

Mitchie caved at the heartbroken tone Shane was using. "Shane," she said, softly. However, her efforts were in vain. Shane was still spouting off things he would do to improve. When he neared twenty-one, Mitchie decided to try again.

"Shane, sweetie. I was kidding." She said the words slowly, letting him comprehend the words. She waited until the realization came to him.

Shane stopped listing. "So you still love me?" he said, turning to Mitchie, eyes wide.

"Again, I repeat: What kind of sorry-excuse-for-a-question is that?" Mitchie replied giving Shane the smile reserved only for him.

The popstar sighed in relief before giving Mitchie a breathtaking grin. "Then you won't mind if I do this." he murmured, giving her a chaste kiss.

Mitchie giggled. "Of course not." She stopped when Shane shot her a glare.

"Then what was with all that "I'm going to behead Connect 3" crap?" At this, Mitchie laughed once more.

"Didn't I tell you I was checking my email? I was forwarding something. That's all." Mitchie said. "Not plotting, no scheming, and no hating."

"Oh." Mitchie smirked as she watched her popstar slowly blush undiscovered shades of red.

"So, Shane. Why did you come up here?" He paused, putting his chin in his hand, as though thinking. After a minute or so passed, he grinned sheepishly.

"I forgot."

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_**A/N: If you're wondering what exactly the Email was about…you'll have to wait until the very end. Muah ha ha. Review please!**_


	2. Shane

_**Disclaimer: We do not own Camp Rock or any of the people mentioned in this fic.**_

This is another chapter of 'The Email.' For those of you that have read it, sorry, but you won't find out what the email is until the end.

**This is unrelated to the previous chapter, so be sure to read this with a clear head.**

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Shane Gray sat at his desk in his house office, looking through his email, his hazel eyes scanning each letter, from fan mail to spam. One particular email made his blood run dry. 'I am going to behead Connect 3 because they are a disgrace to everything.' His eyes widened, and he could feel his black shirt start to cling to his chest from sweat.

'_Oh. My. God.'_ He thought, panicking. "NATE!" he screamed.

Rolling his eyes, Nate got up from his spot on their living room couch. Shane wasn't exactly the brightest bulb of the bunch, so he tended to over-exaggerate simple situations. "What?" he snapped. He snickered inwardly as he watched Shane pick up the phone and dial 911.

Shane told Nate to wait as he spoke into the receiver. "Hello? Officer, this is Shane Gray, calling in report of a stalker!" he said, somewhat hysterically. Nate could hear laughter on the other end before Shane spoke again. "No, I'm not kidding! I'm Shane Gray, and Connect 3 has a stalker!" There was another pause and Shane calmed down slightly. "Alright. Come as soon as you can!" he said, giving the officer their address.

"Shane, what do you think you're doing?" Nate ground out.

"We have a stalker…" Shane replied meekly.

Rolling his eyes once more, Nate said, "Shane, don't you think you're overreacting again?"

"Nope!"

Nate sighed. This was the beginning of a catastrophe. "Well, shouldn't we tell someone else about this?"

Shane blinked several times before asking, "Who?"

"JASON! Shane has something he wants to tell you!" Nate smirked as he saw Shane's horrified expression. A hyper Jason came bouncing down the stairs before coming to a stop and grinning at the Nate and Shane.

The latter gulped noticeably. "Jason, we have a stalker." They braced themselves as Jason let out a shrill, piercing scream.

As he was screaming, Nate took a look at the email that Shane proclaimed was from a stalker. He felt his right eyebrow twitch with annoyance. Hitting Shane upside the head, he shouted, "SHANE! You idiot! It's a forwarded email from Mitchie! There is no stalker!"

"Huh?" was Shane's oh-so-intelligent reply.

Nate rubbed his temples, trying to drown out Jason's screaming so he could properly yell at Shane. But, alas, this attempt was in vain. So, since his own method didn't work, he decided to try Shane's method. "JASON! SHUT UP!" And, as though a miracle occurred, Jason shut up. The curly-haired male sighed. "Shane, it's a FORWARDED EMAIL! Sent from your GIRLFRIEND, no less! THERE IS NO STALKER, YOU IDIOT!" Shane's eyes widened. He quickly checked the sender to see if he was right. Nate's eyebrow twitched with exasperation for his friend.

Shane laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "You're right."

Nate let out an annoyed huff. He slapped Shane upside the head and pulled his black shirt over his head before marching off angrily, with Jason in tow muttering something about idiotic friends who didn't use their brains.

Pulling his shirt back down over his head, Shane turned to the email Mitchie sent him. He was horrified with the results. 'I'm gonna be friends with Michael Jackson because I'm scared of him.' He gasped loudly before letting out a girlish shriek. He stopped screaming when the doorbell rang. He and Nate opened the door.

They first saw the officer from the police station. They paled at the sight behind him. Hundreds of reporters were gathered outside their home.

"Nate! Is it true that Connect 3 has a stalker?"

"Shane? Did you have a girl over? Why was she screaming? Was it because of the stalker?"

Once again, Nate's eyebrow twitched slightly. He turned to Shane, slapping him upside the head once more. "This is all your fault."

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**_Again, for those of you who want to know, you'll have to wait until the end of the story. Review, please!_**


	3. Jason

_**Disclaimer: We do not own Camp Rock or any other people mentioned in this fic.**_

Again, these stories are unrelated to the previous chapters. So start this with a fresh mind. And we mean no offense to Zac Efron, whatsoever. So don't go flaming us about that.

**Kana's Mirror wrote this chapter. **So if you don't like it, don't blame Pyro.

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The 18-year-old guitar player sat at the kitchen counter, surfing the internet when he heard his stomach growl, loudly. "Hey, Nate!" he called.

"What?" Nate asked, walking into the kitchen.

"Throw me a bag of those sunflower seeds."

Nate looked at Jason warily. "Are you sure? You know what happened last time…"

Jason looked at him darkly. "Give. Me. The. Seeds."

"Fine, fine!" he said, tossing the bag to the temperamental Jason. Nate searched through the refrigerator muttering something about Jason and his mood swings.

Jason caught the bag happily and scarfed down its contents. Suddenly his green eyes grew wide with disgust. He jumped up from his stool as he went to the trash can, spewing out the seeds as if they were poison.

Nate sighed. This always happened when Jason had sunflower seeds, yet the idiot still insisted on eating them…

Jason slowly stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of the sleeve of his blue shirt. "Damn. Why do birds like those?"

Nate rolled his eyes as he resumed his snack browsing.

Once back on the computer, Jason's girlish scream pierced the air. Nate's head shot up, bumping his head on the refrigerator shelf as a result. "What?!" he snapped, clutching his abused head.

"The email! It says 'I'm going to behead Connect 3 because I hate them!' We have a stalker!" he cried, pointing his index finger at the screen.

Nate took a look at it and sighed. Something similar had happened with Shane the previous week, but he wasn't sure what. Nate sighed. Sometimes Shane and Jason were too alike for their own good… He shrugged off the feeling as his thoughts returned to the situation at hand. "Jason. We don't have a stalker. That email's from Mitchie. Look at the sender." He said it slowly, as though explaining to a child.

"Oh." Jason said.

The curly-haired teen shook his head, exasperatedly. What was up with his friends?

Walking back to their refrigerator, he began snack hunting once more. And once again, he heard Jason's shrill cry, bumping his head once more. He glared at Jason. "What now?"

"It says that I'm going to run over Zac Efron because I feel like it! I do feel like running over that gay pretty boy! Ooh!" he exclaimed, happily. "I'm gonna use my Hummer!"

Nate paled. As much as he wanted to help Jason with his task, he knew it was wrong. "J-Jason! Stop! That's illegal! Come back here, you dumbass!"

Needless to say, Nate never got his snack.

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**_We know that Jason's eyes aren't green, but hey. That's why it's called fanFICTION. Once again, to those who are wondering, the Email will not make itself known untl the end of this story. Review, please!_**


	4. Ella

_**Disclaimer: We don't own Camp Rock of any other people mentioned in this fic.**_

Sorry for the wait. **Pyro's fault. **

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A black-eyed Eurasian teenager sat at her living room desk, furiously typing away at her computer.

"Ella," her friend, Peggy drawled out, "You're gonna break your computer if you keep typing like that."

"Can't slow down," Ella called back. "Tess thinks that salmon is a summer color! It's a fall color, duh!" Peggy sighed. Sometimes Ella could be such a materialist…

"Ella, salmon is a spring color." Peggy made sure to say this gently, so as not to provoke Ella's… more, adamant nature.

"No, it isn't!" she snapped. "I'm wearing the color right now, aren't I?" She pointed to her rather red-looking ensemble.

"But Ella, salmon is for Spring. Not summer," Ella glared at her. "But it looks good on you!" she added hastily.

Ella relaxed, giving Peggy a content smile before turning back to the computer. Peggy sighed. Her best friend had the attention span of a goldfish except when it came to fashion. Peggy went back to reading and a comfortable silence enveloped them for several minutes before Ella's scream pierced the air. Peggy dropped her book in surprise as she ran to her friend. "Ella! What's wrong?" She turned to her friend and saw her large black eyes wide with fear and her long slender finger pointing at the computer screen.

"M-m-MURDERER!" Peggy sighed. Like Jason and Shane, Ella had a tendency to overreact. Her attention was reverted back to a horror-stricken Ella as she began to speak again.

"H-how could Mitchie do this to her friends? To Shane?! I thought Mitch was always a good girl! B-but she's a cold-blooded murderer!" She finished with a blood-curdling shriek.

The guitarist closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. This always happened when… Ah! This always happened when she checked her email. Peggy sighed. _'I should delete her email account…'_ But alas, if she were to do that, Ella would have a fit and never talk to her again. She could have one of the guys do it – Jason was dull enough to. And it'd be safer for her. However, knowing Ella, she'd probably castrate Jason, boyfriend or not… Peggy let out another sigh; this was harder than she thought. Opening one eye, she took a look at the email Ella was so afraid of. _'_That _was what she's screaming about?!'_ Peggy's eyebrow twitched dangerously before turning to the screeching girl (Peggy swore that Ella was part banshee) and shouting, "ELLA! That's a forwarded email! It was a joke!"

Ella stopped screaming long enough to say, "No, it's not! Mitchie doesn't joke about stuff like this."

"Then how come it says, 'This email is a funny one. I thought it was a funny joke!'?" Peggy glared murderously at her, as though daring Ella to contradict her.

"Oh." Peggy rolled her eyes and turned back to reading her novel. She was so engrossed in it she barely heard Ella laughing. Sighing exasperatedly, Peggy turned to Ella once more.

"What now?" she asked aggravated.

"I'm going to go stab Miley Cyrus because she deserves it!" she said, laughing happily. "This is gonna be fun!"

"Mm hmm. Have fun, Ella." Peggy said, absentmindedly, too absorbed in her book. As she realized what Ella had said, and meant, she turned back to say, "Wait, WHAT?!"

Giggling, Ella told her, "I'm gonna go stab Miley Cyrus, silly," she tilted her head, thinking. "It's not like she doesn't deserves it, she's an evil, evil child."

"Oh." Peggy's expression softened. "Have fun then." With those words said, Ella left, literally skipping to her pink VW bug. Several minutes passed and Peggy vaguely wondered where Ella had run off to, before realizing what Ella had said. "WAIT! Ella, come back! That email was a joke remember? ELLA!"

Poor Miley.

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_**A/N: We're not exactly sure if salmon is a spring color or not. But it's fanFICTION. We apologize to Miley lovers who are reading this. It is a joke, we do not mean any offense to her. **__**Again, for those who keep asking, the Email will not be revealed until the end of the story. Review, please!**_


	5. Nate

_**Disclaimer: We do not, nor will we ever own Camp Rock and its associates, or any other people that are mentioned in this story.**_

This chapter is dedicated to our friend, _magic123, _since he was the one who came up with the plot_._

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Nate sighed. This was the fifth email he'd gotten. And it was the same email. From the same sender. Every. Single. One. Nate rubbed his temples exasperatedly, looking around the deck for something to take his mind off of it.

No such luck.

'_Who the heck is _ToKnowMeIsToLoveMe_?' _Nate thought, glaring at the username. Aloud, he spoke, "More like, to know me is to want to kick my ass."

He roughly took his cup of coffee and sipped it angrily, swearing as he felt some of its contents spill on his new white shirt.

"Crap!" he exclaimed, frantically wiping off the burning liquid. "This was new, too!"

Realizing that there was no hope of reviving the shirt to its formerly clean glory, Nate settled for taking it off. Sighing, he said, "I'll just have to replace it later."

He leaned back, about to delete the email, when a particular line caught his interest. _'Pfft, I'm going to behead Connect 3 because I hate them? In their dreams.' _He took another sip of his coffee before turning back to the email. '_What the hell? I've got nothing better to do anyway.' _Bored out of his mind, Nate proceeded in filling out the stupid thing.

'_Hey,' _Nate mused, _'this is kind of funny. Let's see...'_ At the completion of the email, Nate let out a snort of laughter. _'I'm going to hang Connect 3 because they deserved it. Nice, Nate. Nice.'_

His mood was hereby ruined when Shane came skipping jovially into the room. Nate raised his eyebrows, only mildly curious as to why his band mate was so…chipper.

"Alright, I'll bite. What's with the cheery attitude?"

Despite Nate's half-nakedness, Shane let out a feminine giggle, a mile-wide smile plastered across his face. "Mitchie said she loves me!"

Nate snorted. How Mitchie loved the idiot was beyond his comprehension. And his comprehension stretched out pretty damn far. "Shane," he started. He was, however, cut off by a sob. This time, it was from Jason, who was bounding down the stairs, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

"Nate!" he cried, clutching the unfortunate male into his arms. Burying his face into Nate's afro-like hair, he began sobbing. "Ella... she… she broke up with ME!!" Jason managed to get most of the sentence out before bursting into tears once more.

Nate awkwardly patted Jason's back, uncomfortable with how close they were in proximity. Perhaps it was because it was such a chick-flick moment, but it definitely had much to do with his showing flesh.

'_Crap,' _he thought. '_Now I have to go take a shower again…'_

Pushing away from Jason, he stepped back, brown irises flitting between his two friends. A happy Shane and a down Jason? What the hell was coming to the world?

"Shane, Mitchie says she loves you at least once a week. And you two've been together for how long?" Nate huffed, "Lay off the happy, will you?"

Shane appeared to not have heard a word Nate had said. He was still staring around deck, his eyes glazed over in a dreamy look, no doubt fantasizing about Mitchie.

Nate mentally winced. He didn't want to know what Shane fantasized about. Nate's best guess was that it was an intimate act between Shane and Mitchie.

He turned to the sobbing Jason. "Jason, Ella breaks up with you every other week." He paused, as Jason's sobbing grew more intense. What he said was true. Jason and Ella would break up every other week, and then reconcile the next day. Once the sobbing was reduced to sniffles, he decided to drop the bomb.

"Jason. Get over it."

And it was all downhill from there. Jason started sobbing about how Nate didn't love him, causing Jason to run to the kitchen for 'comfort food' and running into Shane on the way. Shane fell and dragged Nate down along with him. The result: a Connect 3 dog pile.

Squirming out from under Shane, Nate declared, "I'm going to go take a shower. When get I back, you guys are going to act normal." _'As normal as they can be, anyways,' _he added silently.

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Nate came down the stairs, only to find Shane furiously typing on the computer. He vaguely noticed that Shane was wearing a different shirt. _'Why did he change? I just went up five minutes ago.'_

He looked over Shane's shoulder only to see the most annoying penname he'd ever seen stare back at him.

_ToKnowMeIsToLoveMe._

He slapped Shane upside the head. Shane let out a cry of pain. "What was that for?" he whined, rubbing the offended spot gently.

"For being you," Nate retorted, glaring murderously at Shane. He felt a small twinge of satisfaction when he saw the pop star wince under his intense gaze.

"D-don't come near me!" Shane cried frantically. "I can hack into your computer and shut it down!"

Nate momentarily wondered if Shane had the mental capacity to hack into his _own_ computer, let alone his. Taking a deep, calming breath, he walked to the outlet, and pulled out the computer plug.

"I don't need to hack to shut down your computer," he said, smugly. Cuffing Shane on the head once more, he walked away, darkly muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "I will not throttle Shane. We need him for vocals. I can go to jail, but if I make it look like an accident…"

Shane momentarily stared at the spot his irate friend once stood before asking himself, "What'd I do?"

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Lol, sorry, but making fun of Shane is so easy and fun! And sorry that we didn't really follow your idea, Magic… hehe, but we used the joke! **Once again, the Email will not make itself known until the end of this fanfic. **_**Review, please!**_


	6. Tess

**_Disclaimer: We do not, nor will we ever own Camp Rock and its associates, or any other people that are mentioned in this story._**

**Before you kill Kana for the really long wait, just know that it was my (I'm Pyro for the unaware), fault. Heh heh. **BUT, Pyro wrote this chapter, so be prepared for a totally awesome one, contrary to what she believes. Be sure to send glowing reviews, saying how awesome her writing is. :) It'll take a while for it to sink in and I'll need all the help I can get!

And I'm done with my long-ass rant.

**_Enjoy!_**

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"Oh God, tell me you are not about to stick that sugar infested crap into your mouth."

Just as Tess was about to sink her teeth into the jelly-filled pastry, she paused, softly frowning at what was supposed to be her breakfast. Slowly, she lowered the donut. "But mom...it's just one donut."

The two, daughter and mother, bitch and mentor respectively, sat together in the recording studio where TJ was momentarily going to be recording her newest song. TJ, it seemed, grew a heart and decided that Tess could tag along. Unfortunately for Tess, she didn't realize that "tagging along" would result in a critical analysis of what she chose to eat.

TJ, using her forefinger and thumb, picked up the bag that Tess had taken the donut out of. "Dunkin' donuts, Teresa? Really, now." Disgustingly, she set the bag back down. "First it's just one donut, and next you're stuffing your face with anything you can get your grubby hands on. Look at yourself sweetie; do you want to be fat? Or do you want to be thin and beautiful?"

Tess looked down at herself. She wasn't fat, not even close. And if her mother seriously thought that one donut was going to somehow change that fact instantly, she was severely delusional. "Mom, it's just a donut. You should try one some time." And with that, she stared straight into her mom's eyes, taking a dainty, but victorious bite of the delectable pastry. She swallowed. "Mmm."

"I can't even look at you now." TJ turned away, getting up and heading through a door to prep herself for the actual recording.

Tess rolled her eyes. Her mother, not just a singer, but a brilliant actress. The only reason she was being so mean was because she wanted a bite. Shrugging, she checked to see if anyone was paying attention to her. No one was. She smiled and then, she opened her mouth wide, devouring the donut as fast as possible. When it was gone, she licked her fingers, wiping them on her yellow ensemble afterwards. "I could eat one of those every day," she muttered to herself, pulling her laptop out of her bag as she did.

The MacBook, shiny and new, looked just the part of gorgeous. Tess tapped her foot to the beat of the song playing in the room, Womanizer. "Womanizer, womanizer," she sang softly.

Bored with herself, she decided to check up on her email. "Don't know you, don't want to, loser, loser, loser," she muttered as she scanned through the emails. Just as she went to delete all of the forwards that were sent to her, she read a severely interesting one. 'I'm going to behead Connect Three because I hate them.'

Raising her eyebrows in curiosity, she clicked on the email...sent from Mitchie? As she read through the forward, she couldn't help but laugh. Shaking her head, she laughed as she got her results. Aloud, she said, "I strangled TJ Tyler because she's a disgrace to everything."

She lifted her eyes to look through the glass that showed TJ doing strange exercises to prepare herself. Stifling her laughter, she typed in her answer, sending it off to everyone she knew.

Including, though she didn't mean to, mommy dearest.

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Tess sat alone in her living room, channel surfing. Just as she went to set down the remote, someone swiftly picked it back up, turning the TV off. Tess turned to her right, looking up. "Mom?"

TJ sighed, kneeling down so that Tess was peering down at her. "Tess we need to talk."

"Well, can it wait? Gossip Girl is on," she snapped.

"No, listen to me. I just...I just want you to know that I'm not mad, okay? I'm going to get you the help you need."

Tess blinked. "Huh?"

"The email, sweetie." TJ reached out and softly stroked Tess's hair. "I know that you would never hurt me, darling, but the fact that you feel like that shows me that you need proper counseling."

"Mom, that was a joke," Tess said matter-of-factly, reaching for the remote, thinking the issue was done and resolved.

"Tess, I've made a few calls and –

Tess stared. "And? Mom, what'd you do?" she said warily.

TJ laid a hand on Tess' in an attempt to soothe her. "Honey, you're going to go away for a little while, okay?"

"You're sending me to a mental institution!?" Tess screeched, yanking her hand out of her mother's grip and standing up quickly.

"Tess, there's no need to be so hostile. It's for your own good. I promise you, you'll thank me for this."

"Thank you!? What the hell for!?" Tess slid into her flip flops, making a mad dash for the front door.

It was TJ's turn to blink. "Tess? Tess, get back here! TESS!"

Needless to say, one email plus two blondes made for one very interesting mother-daughter relationship.

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See? Didn't I tell you that Pyro wrote a totally awesome chapter? Once again, the email won't make itself known 'til the end of the story, which is in about two chapters, counting our epilogue. **_Review, please!_**


	7. Caitlyn

**_Disclaimer: We do not own Camp Rock._**

**pyrolyn-776 says: IT WAS ALL MY FAULT! BUT I DID IT IN EIGHT MINUTES! HEH. DON'T KILL ME! Heh heh.  
**_Overuse of Emoticons says: It's not all her fault. You should thank her! She wrote this chapter. :) Read it. Ain't it awesome?_

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The tiny room - well, if you could call it a room that is - was entirely dark, save for the light emitting from the screen of her most pried position. Currently she was seated in the tub, hiding from her freaky little chubby cousin, Billy. The boy gave her the creeps, so the very moment she had a chance, she made a break for it. She ended up in the upstairs bathroom, her Mac under her arm. Locking the door behind her, she slowly worked her way into the tub.

And now she was blankly staring at the screen, rolling her eyes. "I killed Vanessa Hudgens because she deserved it? Right. God, Shane. You're so immature."

Nevertheless, the girl was pretty damn bored. Family reunions were the worst, especially with her mother acting as host. Everything had to be perfect. Nothing could go wrong. Not the damn homemade cheesecake or the steaks. (Though, if she was to be perfectly honest the cheesecake was pretty gross and the steak was well done.

So what did Caitlyn Gellar do?

She shrugged her shoulders, cracked her knuckles, and went to work.

_I find it utterly repulsive - the stupid emails. I HATE spam. You guys know that!!! Gah. I don't get it. What is the point in this? Killing celebrities? Eye colors? It's all a bunch of nonsense if you ask me. However, because you guys are a bunch of immature prats, here's the damn thing: I killed Vanessa Hudgens because she deserved it._

_:P_

_Now stop sending me stupid spam!!!!_

_XOXO,_

_C_

She pressed send and leaned back. "There. Immature kiddies, you."

Suddenly, the door burst open, the light was cracked open, and Caitlyn was wide-eyed staring the creep in the face. "GET OUT OF HERE!" she shrieked.

"YOU KILLED VANESSA!" he murderously returned.

She blinked. "What?"

"YOU JUST TYPED IT INTO YOUR EMAIL AND SENT IT! I'M TELLING AUNTIE JANEEEEE!"

The boy took off like Superman himself and Caitlyn was left with only two thoughts: 1) little Billy was about to die. And 2) she really needed to come up with a better password than Cupcakes.

She carefully set the computer aside before leaping out. "BILLY! BILLY YOU GET BACK HERE! DAMN IT, BILLY!"

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_See?? Wasn't it hilarious? :) And no, I'm not being sarcastic._

**_Feedback is appreciated! :)_**


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